The Shadow of Great Britain

An elderly gentleman with silver hair, leaning on a cane, sat on a park bench sternly lecturing two young men passing by with umbrellas.

Their outfits looked neither like those of wealthy gentlemen nor as dirty as those of a sweeper. Judging by their vacant gazes, oh, it turned out they were two bookish students from the University of London.

The young man walking behind listened to the kind lecture from the elderly gentleman, not only without a trace of gratitude but instead spat on the ground and shamelessly retorted, “Old man, it’s raining, and you’re not even using an umbrella. All this water soaking you, and your brain is still hot?”

Then, he walked up and patted the young man walking ahead of him on the shoulder, “Arthur, it’s raining so hard, why aren’t you walking faster?”

The young man walking ahead seemed intellectually challenged, even speaking slowly, “Why rush? Isn’t it raining ahead too?”

The young man named Arthur turned his head to stare at his companion’s pocket, “I forgot my wallet. How much do you have on you? I got hungry watching the play.”

The young man behind reached into his pocket, “I have two shillings in my left pocket and six pennies in my right pocket.”

The young man named Arthur, indeed intellectually challenged, couldn’t do the math and impatiently said, “Eld, I don’t care about your left pocket and right pocket; I just want to know how much you have in total. This week’s budget is really tight; I want to eat something good now.”

The young man named Eld spread his hands, “Sorry, I don’t have a penny.”

The intellectually challenged young man was stunned for a while, “Didn’t you say you have money in your left and right pockets?”

With a sneer on his lips, Eld shrugged, “I know, but these trousers aren’t mine.”

Arthur carefully inspected his companion’s trousers, “You’re lying, I remember you wore these beige trousers today. Eld, it’s just a meal, is it necessary?”

“Arthur, it’s not necessary. I did wear beige trousers today, but I’m sure these ones aren’t mine.”

“Why?”

“Firstly, because I clearly had two pounds in my pocket today, not two shillings and six pennies! Secondly, and most importantly, these trousers are tight at the crotch, and my size is damn bigger than this!”

The young man Arthur, who was intellectually challenged, seemed unable to process such a large amount of information. He remained silent for quite a while before asking, “Then where are your trousers?”

The frivolous young man Eld whistled, “God knows! I must have left them in the little room at the theater. When the police suddenly barged into the theater, I was scared and grabbed a pair of trousers randomly. I was just glad I didn’t get caught until I realized just now that I might have worn the wrong pair.”

At this point, Eld suddenly sensed something was wrong. He first frowned and then pinched his chin, showing a contemplative expression. Unfortunately, this guy also seemed intellectually challenged.

Eld raised his head and asked his intellectually challenged partner, “Why was there another pair of trousers in the room? Arthur, did that bitch trick me?”

“What do you think?”

The young man named Arthur suddenly seemed intellectually superior, though it was clear he was not used to it.

He politely removed his hat and asked, “Mr. Carter, do you need me to call the police for you?”

The publication of this article drew significant attention from the alumni association of the University of London. The editorial team of “British” received letters from various police stations in the Scotland Yard West District, known for its numerous theaters, on the night of its release.

Although “British” clarified that the article was a work of fiction by the author, the police stations still insisted in their letters that the editorial team should provide the address of the theater mentioned in the article.

…

This article was written by Charles Darwin, an outstanding young scholar selected by the Linnaean Society of Britain, naturalist and on-board Priest of the Royal Navy’s Beagle, and renowned alumnus of Cambridge University, who single-handedly upheld the natural sciences field of “British”. It was published in “British” in the second half of June 1831.

“A Few Amusing Stories from South America”

Although I have slowly grown accustomed to the differences between the South American land and Britain, each time I hear the locals discuss the shell fossils I’ve collected, it still amuses me.

Their conversation almost mirrors that of Europeans from a century ago, questioning whether these shell fossils are “born this way”. My geological surveys in this region astonished the Chileans, who would rather believe I came in search of gold or silver than to collect fossils.

This situation can sometimes be troubling. I found the best way to explain my work is to question them back: why are you not interested in earthquakes and volcanoes? Why are some springs hot and others cold? Why does Chile have high mountains while La Plata in Argentina doesn’t even have hills?

These straightforward questions quickly convinced and silenced most people. However, there were always a few, much like those lagging by a century that you could encounter in England, who believed my exploration of these issues was futile and impious, thinking that knowing the mountains were created by God was sufficient.

One night, we stayed in a secluded cottage. I soon discovered that a few items I had brought, especially a pocket compass, amazed the local farmers. They all had me bring out the compass to show everyone and use it to point out various directions on a map.

From complete indifference to my work, suddenly a compass earned me great admiration. They thought it incredible that a stranger like me could know his way in a completely unfamiliar place.

A young woman, bedridden, specifically requested me to visit so she could see my compass. They found me odd, but I found them even more surprising: these people, who owned thousands of cattle and large estates, were so ignorant.

The only explanation for this is that outsiders rarely visit this remote area. They asked me if the Earth or the sun moves, if the north is hotter or colder, where Spain is, who is next to the United States, and other such questions.

When I told them I was British, most villagers could only vaguely understand that England, London, and North America were simply different names for the same place. Those with a bit more knowledge thought London and North America were neighboring independent countries, and that England was the largest city in London!

Of course, they had their strengths. For example, their techniques in using the lasso or boleadoras: they could maintain a steady swing of the lasso while riding at full speed and making sudden turns, and still aim accurately.

One day, while I was amusing myself by practicing swinging the boleadoras while riding fast, the rotating ball unexpectedly hit a shrub. It stopped spinning immediately, fell to the ground, and suddenly, like magic, entangled my horse’s hind legs.

The other ball quickly got pulled from my hand, and the horse was firmly tied up. Fortunately, it was an experienced old horse that understood what was happening and didn’t panic and fall. The Gauchos laughed loudly at my predicament, shouting that they had seen cows and horses being lassoed, but never a man catching himself.

Though they were somewhat lacking in knowledge, they were indeed a warm and honest bunch. The Gauchos meant what they said, unlike in England, where you would never encounter the kind of farce seen at the London Zoo.

I believe many members of the Linnaean Society know that the London Zoo had two lions, but only fed meat to one, while the other got a daily allowance of a bag of nuts and two bananas. Ha? You ask why? Because they only budgeted for one lion, so the other one was counted as a monkey.

The publication of this article prompted strong protests from the London Zoo. The gentlemen solemnly declared that Darwin’s statements about the two lions were entirely fabricated. After verifying the situation, “British” fashion novel editor Mr. Alexander Dumas published an apology in the next issue, stating that the London Zoo mentioned by Charles Darwin was not the one in Regent’s Park but an institution with an office address at Westminster Palace.